Donna Falls Into A Hole
by Madwoman in the TARDIS
Summary: “You’re the addict, Leo, not me!” “Listen to us, Donna,” Josh implored. “You need help.”“So I’m supposed to take advice from a man who can’t tell the difference between Christmas music and sirens?”
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes:**

This story takes place during the missing year (so anything before "Impact Winter" is fair game). Leo had his heart attack and is now Advisor to the President, CJ is White House Chief of Staff, Charlie is Special Assistant to the White House Chief of Staff, Annabeth Schott is Deputy Press Secretary, and Josh and Donna are still at the White House.

_The West Wing_ and all its characters (Donnatella Moss, Joshua Lyman, Leo McGarry, Jed Bartlet, CJ Cregg, Charlie Young, Toby Ziegler, Will Bailey, Annabeth Schott, Kate Harper, Margaret, Carol, Bonnie, Ginger, Stanley Keyworth, etc.) belong to Aaron Sorkin, John Wells, NBC, and whomever else they belong to (but not me – or else Josh and Donna would have shared at least a passionate kiss by now). Any character you don't recognize is a figment of my demented imagination.

This fic (and its title) is obviously influenced by "Noel" and all those interventions gone wrong I've seen on various movies and television shows over the years (i.e. _ER _and _Party of Five_). The line "AA people think everyone's got a problem" comes from _NYPD Blue_ (alcoholic Detective Diane Russell, referring to recovering alcoholic Detective Andy Sipowicz).

Thanks to my betas (Megan for editing the content and Bex for her expertise on drug addictions and recovery). I owe you "the finest bagels and muffins in all the land."

And without further ado, I bring you …

**Donna Falls Into A Hole**

**Chapter I**

Office of the White House Chief of Staff

Thursday, December 23, 2004

Morning

Donnatella Moss entered the office of the White House Chief of Staff, arms folded across her chest. She wasn't feeling particularly sociable today; the next person who wished her a "Merry Christmas" could shove it. If Josh hadn't called looking for that damn Brickman file, she probably would have just stayed in bed. "You wanted to see me." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Donna, yes, have a seat," CJ said.

It was then that she noticed the other occupants in the room. Josh, Toby, Charlie, the President, and … "Leo?" She took a step back. "Someone want to tell me what's going on here?"

"Sit down, Donna," CJ repeated. The Chief of Staff waited for the younger woman to comply before continuing. "The reason I asked you to come to my office – and why everyone else is here – is because we're worried about you."

She scoffed. "Why would you be worried about me? I'm doing my job, aren't I?" She turned to Josh. "Well?" she asked her boss. "Are my job skills lacking?"

"No, Donna, your job skills …" he began, looking around for some assistance.

_What the hell are you looking at them for? _She wanted to yell._ You got a problem with me, say it to my face._

Leo cut to the chase. "We think you have a drug problem."

She raised one eyebrow. "Really, now? You know what they say, don't you? AA people think everyone's got a problem." _You're a damn hypocrite, Leo. Get off your high horse, why don't you._

"Donna," CJ warned. Josh said nothing; his mouth was agape.

"I would appreciate you treating Leo with more respect," President Bartlet admonished her. "If you want to talk to Josh like that in private, by all means – the two of you seem to tolerate each other quite well. But I don't ever want to hear you speaking to Leo – or any other member of my staff – that way again."

"She's never spoken to me like that, sir," Josh informed the President. He turned to his assistant. "You've been moody lately," he told her. "One minute you're dragging yourself because your leg hurts or you can't even move because you're having some kind of panic attack … ten minutes later, you're bouncing off the walls and trying to do fifty things at once."

"Have I had any attacks lately?" Donna asked him. In response to his shaking head, she said, "So you see? The meds prevent the panic attacks. Are we good now?" _Who the hell do these sons of bitches think they are? They need to get their heads examined. I feel great._ _No, I feel like shit. But it's none of their business. _She moved to get out of the chair but was stopped by Leo's voice.

"We're not done yet, Donna," he said sternly. She sank back into her seat.

"I found you rearranging files in Josh's office," Charlie contributed.

"So? He's a slob – what's wrong with cleaning up a little?"

Josh ran a hand through his unruly hair. "This was after you alphabetized my junk food collection" – he gave CJ an apologetic smile – "and lined up all my staplers. And the files weren't in any normal order." _They were in order, you idiot._

"They _were_ in order," she said. She stood up and marched over to where Josh was leaning against the wall. "They were arranged by degree of you pissing people off. But if that's too difficult a concept for you to grasp …"

"You've been having violent mood swings," the Deputy Chief of Staff continued. _Don't you dare interrupt me, Lyman._ "I've seen you laughing and joking around, then fly into a rage over the littlest thing."

"You were a bastard after Rosslyn – did anyone accuse _you_ of abusing drugs?"

"I've always been a prick; ask anyone who knows me." He shot a dimpled grin her way, obviously hoping to elicit a smile. _Fat chance, pal. You're not gonna make me any less pissed at you. _"But you – you used to be one of the sweetest women I know. Now, I can't even open my mouth without worrying whether you're going to curse at me or tear apart my office."

Office of the White House Deputy Chief of Staff

Sometime in the Last Four Months

Josh hung up the phone and rubbed his temples. Forty minutes spent trying to knock some sense into Senator Coleman equaled forty minutes wasted. Unless the White House added his rider to the Nora and Brianne Simpson Traffic Safety Bill (named for two sisters killed because they weren't buckled up), they would not be getting his vote. Now he had to tell the President – and figure out how to change James Coleman's mind.

"Donna!" He bellowed. As if on cue, his assistant appeared in his doorway. She looked exhausted, but duty called. "Where's the file on the Traffic Safety Bill?"

"Probably somewhere under the crap on your desk."

He smiled. "Which you put there."

She shook her head and proceeded to rifle through the papers on the desk until she found the file in question. "Ta da!" she said triumphantly.

He took the file and placed it to the side. "What would I do without you?"

"Be pathetically lost, I'm sure." He began skimming over his notes on the Simpson Bill, hoping to find some way to accommodate Coleman.

"What did Senator Coleman want?" _It's been over seven years and I'm still amazed that woman can read my mind._

"He wants to add a rider to the Simpson Bill. Thinks traffic cops should arrest

every person over legal driving age who isn't wearing a seat belt. Or don't buckle in their kids."

"Perfect," she said dryly. "We already clog our prisons with people who should

be receiving psychiatric care or drug rehab." She began absent-mindedly rearranging papers on his desk.

"The Senator's trying to teach those people a lesson. What could be more

effective than spending a night behind bars?" He interlocked his hands behind his head and leaned back into his chair. "Seat belts save lives, yet so many people continue to refuse to wear them."

"But there has to be a better way. Where will they put the real criminals?" Donna

asked. "You know, rapists, murderers, thieves?"

"I hear there's room at the Holiday Inn." He waited for his assistant to shoot back

a witty response, but heard nothing. She was staring at something on his desk with the typical _Donnatella Moss look of disapproval_ he knew so well. "What's wrong?"

"That cup's out of place," Donna observed.

He raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"

She picked up the Harvard mug he used as a pen and pencil holder and placed it on the other side of his desk. "That's better."

"Donna, it's a pen holder."

"Everything has its place, Josh," she explained.

He shook his head, still trying to wrap his brain around her newfound obsession with order. "As long as I can grab a pen when I need one, who cares where you put the mug?" He expected her to tease him. He expected her to attempt to defend her rationalization for placing the penholder in a certain spot on his desk. He did not expect her to lose her temper.

"Fuck you, Josh!" she screamed. "I hate you. You know that? I hate you. You are so goddamn helpless it's pathetic. You can't even tie your own ties. What would you do if I wasn't here to find missing files?"

"Isn't that what I pay you for?" He asked. He watched wide-eyed as her arm swept the mass of files and paperwork to the floor. _Wrong answer. _His lucky Harvard mug – the one he'd had since college and on every campaign he'd ever been part of – crashed to the ground and shattered, spilling pens, pencils, markers, and letter openers across the carpet. He decided to ignore the broken cup and instead reached for Donna's arm. "Hey, calm down, would you. I was kidding. I was just …"

"Shut up! Shut the hell up!" She jerked her arm from his grasp and slapped him hard across the face. "Bastard!" Suddenly, her demeanor softened. "You have senior staff in ten minutes," she informed him before walking out of the room as if her outburst never happened.

Office of the White House Chief of Staff

Thursday, December 23, 2004

Morning

"Oh? And you got a problem with that? I was almost blown up, and every day I come here and have to watch explosions cycle on TV. I think I'm entitled to feel a bit moody now and then, don't you?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes:**

See Chapter I. _The West Wing_ and its amazing characters are the creation of Aaron Sorkin and belong to him, John Wells, NBC, etc. The only items that I own are this story and all the characters you don't recognize.

Thanks again to Megan and Bex for all their input. I appreciate it, guys.

**Donna Falls Into A Hole**

**Chapter II**

"_Oh? And you got a problem with that? I was almost blown up, and every day I come here and have to watch explosions cycle on TV. I think I'm entitled to feel a bit moody now and then, don't you?"_

Office of the White House Chief of Staff

Thursday, December 23, 2004

Morning

"This is more than just being moody," CJ said. "You've lost weight, you've been neglecting your appearance – when was the last time you even showered?" _And you're an ugly bitch – what's your point?_

"You show up late to work," Charlie said. "And at least twice I saw you hung over." _Who the hell asked you, pal? I'm not allowed to have a social life?_

"I don't know you anymore, Donna," Josh told her. "You used to be so efficient. But lately, you've been making errors left and right – and you don't even care."

"I've been managing on four hours of sleep a night," she said. "We all have." She turned to CJ. "You've been sleep deprived. Why hasn't anyone accused _you_ of being a junkie?"

"Because I haven't been seen walking around in a daze," the other woman answered. "Or with glassy eyes."

"You used to have such drive," Toby said. _Nice of you to join the party, Tobias. _"Now, there are days you can't put together a coherent sentence. And Annabeth …"

She smirked at the balding man. "I'm sorry, Toby, for not speaking to your grammatical satisfaction. But to tell you the truth, I couldn't give a flying fuck what you think."

His brow furrowed, obviously trying to locate the Old Donna, the Donna they had come to know and love. _Donna's dead! Don't you get it? She was killed seven months ago. _She knew the words spilling from her lips were pure lies; she cared very much what Toby Ziegler thought. When she had first met the man, she had been scared off by his gruff exterior. After the assassination attempt … Toby's voice breaking the dreaded news … sitting in GW waiting to learn whether Josh would live or die. … He had become someone she could count on for support, especially when Josh Lyman was acting like Josh Lyman. She felt inadequate with the senior staff, self-conscious. She was not nearly as educated or as intelligent as any of them, yet they treated her like she was one of their own. And now they were ganging up on her. Her life was under control, no matter what anyone here wanted to believe.

"And Annabeth caught you sleeping at your desk – during the Traffic Safety Bill."

"You people sleep at your desks all the time." _Hypocrites! You people are all hypocrites._

"You walked into a wall yesterday," Charlie said.

"I'm a klutz – just ask Josh."

"We're not just concerned about your behavior," Bartlet explained. "We're worried about your health."

"My health is fine, thank you very much," she retorted.

"You were having heart palpitations!" Toby shouted.

Georgetown Hospital Emergency Room

Sometime in the Last Four Months

Toby Ziegler sat in the hard aqua-colored chair Georgetown Hospital offered for the benefit of patients and visitors in the ER. "Josh, sit down, you're making my head spin," he said to the nervous man pacing back and forth in front of him.

"What the hell is taking them so long?" Josh yelled.

Toby ran his hand across the top of his head, a sign to those who knew him best that he was exasperated.

The afternoon had started with Will barreling into his office to air his displeasure about Bingo Bob not getting enough of the spotlight. It had been close to a year since Will Bailey abandoned the Communications Department for whatever lucrative position the Vice President offered, yet Toby's anger still hadn't dissipated. As he berated his ex-Deputy, he tried reminding himself he was trying to reason with a man who had success in running a dead man's congressional campaign. _Maybe Will's only able to work with deceased politicians. Bingo Bob's not dead, but he's so dull I can't tell the difference sometimes._

"Donna?" he heard Annabeth call out in a panic-laced voice. "Donna, what's wrong?"

Toby ignored his ex-Deputy and raced out of his office. A small crowd was gathered in front of CJ's – no, Leo's – office. As he got closer, he could see Annabeth Schott kneeling in front of Donna. She was sitting on the floor and leaning against the door with her hands on her chest. Her skin was pale, her eyes were squeezed shut, and she was breathing rapidly, trying to suck in air that didn't exist.

"What happened?" he asked Annabeth. "Get back to work!" he ordered the crowd. "She needs some space." They obeyed and began to disperse.

"I don't know," she replied. "She just sat down. Said she couldn't breathe." She lifted Donna's wrist and checked the other woman's pulse. "It's too fast."

"Bonnie!" Toby yelled. As soon as the Communications Aide acknowledged him, he said, "Call the Infirmary. Find out who's on duty and tell them to get down here." _I need a doctor over here. I need some help!_

"And find out where Josh is," Will added from behind him. "He'll want to know what's going on."

"What do you mean, 'Josh'll want to know what's going on?'" Toby turned his head and saw the Deputy Chief of Staff standing by the doorway into the Communications Bullpen.

"It's Donna," Will said. That one name was enough to make Josh Lyman break into a run and barrel towards Leo's office. "We think she's having some kind of panic attack."

Annabeth, Toby, and Will moved away to give Josh and Donna some room. He sat on the floor and rubbed his hand up and down his assistant's back while whispering words of comfort over her strangled gasps. "It's gonna be okay, Donna," he cooed. "You're having a panic attack. I want you to focus on the sound of my voice, alright?" The woman nodded. "Breathe in one … and relax. … Breathe in two … and relax. … Breathe in three … and relax. … Breathe in four …" She leaned forward and vomited all over her boss's shirt. Instead of commenting, Josh stayed focused on the task at hand.

" … Breathe in eight … and relax. Breathe in nine … and relax. Breathe in ten …"

It never ceased to amaze Toby how much Josh Lyman and Donna Moss cared about each other. One of the hardest things he ever had to do was inform the young woman that Josh had been shot at the Newseum. She was in such shock that her response was _With what? _No matter what anyone said, she refused to leave the ICU. It was Donna who first brought Josh's PTSD issues to their attention. And when the Codel was bombed in Gaza, he watched as Josh fell to pieces until Leo gave him permission to fly to Landstuhl to be at her side. Toby was aware that Josh would do anything for Donna. In fact, he was sure there were issues he wasn't even aware of between the two of them. So it was no surprise that Josh was the only person able to soothe the distressed woman.

" … Breathe in seven … and relax. … Breathe in six … and relax. … Breathe in five … and relax. …"

A Navy lieutenant entered the Bullpen, two paramedics in tow with a gurney and medical gear. Everybody cleared out except for Josh, who clasped Donna's hand. "My name is Lieutenant Virgil Granby," the officer introduced himself. "Can you speak?" Donna shook her head. "What's her name?"

"Donna Moss," Josh answered for her. "She had a pulmonary embolism when she was in the hospital in Germany. Could this be related?"

"Why don't we get her looked over first," Lieutenant Granby suggested. He checked Donna's vitals. "When did the palpitations start?"

So here they were, in the ER at Georgetown Hospital, waiting for a doctor to tell them what the hell was wrong with Donna.

Finally, a doctor approached them. "Is there a Joshua Lyman here?"

"I'm Josh Lyman," Josh said. "This is Toby Ziegler. Is Donna okay?"

"My name's Dr. Ken Stryker. We gave her something to help with the chest pains," Dr. Stryker informed the two men. "But we want to keep her overnight, just to be on the safe side."

"Can we see her?" Toby asked.

When they went into Donna's room, they saw her lying on the bed, her face covered with an oxygen mask. Josh pulled up a chair. "Hey," he said. "How are you feeling?"

She lifted the mask and turned her head towards her boss. "I've been better." For the first time, she noticed exactly where she had gotten sick earlier. Her usually pale cheeks turned bright red. "Oh god, Josh," she gasped. "I'm so sorry."

He grinned at her. "Do you know how many years I've waited for this moment?"

Toby, taking his cue, quietly stepped out of the room.

Office of the White House Chief of Staff

Thursday, December 23, 2004

Morning

Donna placed her hand on the back of Toby's chair and addressed the room. "Anything else you want to accuse me of?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes:**

See Chapter I. _The West Wing_ and all its characters (except ones invented by moi) belong to Aaron Sorkin, John Wells, NBC, and whoever – but not me.

Megan and Bex – thanks again. Keg of glory … coffee … finest bagels and muffins in all the land … you da man … you catch my drift.

**DONNA FALLS INTO A HOLE**

**Chapter III**

_Donna placed her hand on the back of Toby's chair and addressed the room. "Anything else you want to accuse me of?" _

Office of the White House Chief of Staff

Thursday, December 23, 2004

Morning

"There have been discrepancies in Josh's bank account," Bartlet told her. "Anyone else would have been fired immediately." Donna opened her mouth to defend herself. "And don't even think about giving me any sorry excuse that you were buying a disgruntled senator flowers. I know it doesn't take much effort for Joshua Lyman to antagonize Congress, but I don't think he's pissed anybody off recently."

Donna rolled her eyes. Why couldn't any of them understand? She needed the money more than Josh. He was Deputy Chief of Staff, for god sakes. With his hefty government salary, he could survive losing a few dollars here and there. Without her medication, she was in excruciating pain. "I may have borrowed some money for Christmas presents," she explained. "Sir." She added this as an afterthought. _He's the President_, a voice inside her head yelled. _Show the man the respect his position demands._ She wanted to tell the voice to fuck off.

"Don't you roll your eyes at me, young lady," the President continued. "Name one government official who received flowers from Josh's account in the last month. I'd like to verify it with their office. I'd also like to take a peek at the receipts of the gifts you purchased." She glared at the man and remained silent.

"What medicines are you taking?" CJ asked when it became apparent the young woman was refusing to answer the President's questions.

"Vicodin, Percocet, Valium, and Zoloft," she replied. "All prescribed by a doctor."

"How many doctors?" Josh asked. _As many as it takes to get my damn pills._

"None of your damned business!"

"You've got nothing to be ashamed of, Donna," Leo assured her. "Lord knows you're not the first person to develop an addiction to painki …"

"You're the addict, Leo, not me!" she snapped. The former Chief of Staff – the one man who should know better than to participate in this vicious attack – winced.

"Listen to us, Donna," Josh implored. "You need help."

"So I'm supposed to take advice from a man who can't tell the difference between Christmas music and sirens?" She saw her boss and best friend flinch, but chose to ignore his discomfort. "You're just jealous because I found a way to deal and _you_ didn't," she spat.

"The painkillers don't help you cope," Leo tried to explain. "All they do is numb the pain until you feel even more out of control than you were before you started taking the drugs."

Communications Bullpen

Sometime in the Last Four Months

CJ Cregg walked briskly through her old haunt, searching for a certain Communications Director. Under her arm was a folder with the notes Toby would need for his meeting with Senator Ricardo (arranged beautifully by her able-bodied assistant). She always enjoyed a good excuse to tease her friend. Annabeth – by asking his ex-wife what she found attractive about him – gave her the perfect opportunity. Of course, if there was time, she wanted to prep him for the Ricardo meeting.

"You were amazing in there," a high-pitched voice praised her friend from inside his closed office.

"I felt like an idiot!" Toby responded.

"A few more times, you'll feel like a natural," she assured him.

CJ grinned and chose to give Annabeth a few more minutes to torment him. The Deputy Press Secretary was right – Toby was improving since his first briefing. He was a writer – that meant he felt most comfortable behind the scenes, not in the spotlight. She decided to bide her time by visiting Josh.

"Hey, Donna, is Josh back yet?" she asked.

She heard the young woman suppress a sniffle. "No," Donna answered brusquely.

"Are you okay?"

Donna nodded. "I'm f- I'm fine." Her voice caught in her throat.

"You sound like you've been crying," CJ commented. She knelt down and lifted Donna's chin so it was facing her. Sure enough, the blond woman's face was streaked with tears.

"What's wrong, Donna?"

"I spilled coffee on my desk."

The Chief of Staff glanced at the desk. One tiny spot was covered with a piece of paper towel. _Is this what you and Josh would call 'having a nutty_?_'_ "Is that all? Looks like you got most of it," she tried to assure her friend.

"I'm a klutz! I'm a fucking klutz!" She banged a fist against the desk several times for emphasis.

CJ grabbed a nearby chair and dragged it next to the distraught woman. "Donna, you're not the first person to spill coffee on their desk." _But you are the first person I've met to fall to pieces over it._

"Yes I am! I shouldn't be here. The coffee's gonna stain the desk. Important people walk by this desk every day. What if this reflects badly on Josh?" By now, Donna was sobbing uncontrollably. "They'll go against him and it'll be all my fault."

_What the hell do I do? _The COS wondered. She was fairly certain her friend was on the verge of a breakdown – if she wasn't already having one at this very moment. _Just go along with her, _she told herself. _Trying to assure her otherwise would be futile. _"I won't let them," she promised. "If anyone tries to punish Josh for your spilled coffee, let me know. I'll deal with it."

"Don't you get it?" Donna screamed. "You can't 'deal with it!' The president's gonna fire him. I represent Josh; Josh represents President Bartlet and everything this Administration stands for. If I don't have it together, people will assume Josh is incapable of being Deputy Chief of Staff and that Jed Bartlet is incapable of presiding over this country."

"Yes, because you have power over Josh Lyman," CJ commented dryly.

Donna hiccupped and swallowed the remnants of her sobs before bursting into loud guffaws. "I have power over Josh Lyman? I actually have power over Josh Lyman? This is … this is … this is great!" She grinned at a slack-jawed Chief of Staff and rubbed her hands together. "One little coffee spill, and I ruin his life. Don't you love that? Don't you just love it?"

CJ looked up and noticed, for the first time, the crowd gathered in the Communications Bullpen, staring at – what would appear to them – the deranged woman in their midst. "Everyone get back to work!" She ordered. She placed her hand on Donna's shoulder. "Why don't you take the rest of the day off."

The blonde woman shook her head. "Can't. No can do. Gotta set up an appointment with some senator (or was it some dude from NASA?). I'm very very busy today. Can't rest. Lot of work to do. If I skip town today, Josh is gonna hang me. No! He'll slit my throat. Maybe even hack …"

"I overrule Josh," CJ interrupted before Donna had a chance to expand on Josh's possible homicidal tendencies. "Go home. Take a nice hot bath and sleep for a few hours." _No, no question about it at all – Donna's having a nervous breakdown._

Later that day, when Josh returned from mopping the floor with pompous Republican senators, he was ordered to CJ's office.

"What's up?" he asked.

"I'm worried about Donna," CJ told him. "I found her crying hysterically because she spilled coffee on her desk."

"Did it get on any papers?"

"It was one tiny spot," she explained. "Nowhere near the papers."

He chuckled. "Sounds like Donna. Makes a big deal about everything." His voice sobered. "She's been under a lot of stress lately. Don't worry – I'll talk to her."

"I sent her home."

His head snapped up. "You what? Why? I need her today."

"She was having a nervous breakdown. I don't think she'd be of much use to you anyway."

Office of the White House Chief of Staff

Thursday, December 23, 2004

Morning

"I was having a bad day," Donna explained. At the shaking of heads, she barked: "What? You people have never had a fucking bad day in your entire lives?" She scoffed. "I find that so hard to believe."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes:**

You know the drill. The West Wing does not belong to me; it is the property of Aaron Sorkin and John Wells. Kudos to my betas, Bex and Megan.

**DONNA FALLS INTO A HOLE**

**Chapter IV**

"I was having a bad day," Donna explained. At the shaking of heads, she barked: "What? You people have never had a fucking bad day in your entire lives?" She scoffed. "I find that so hard to believe."

Office of the White House Chief of Staff

Thursday, December 23, 2004

Morning

"Sure we've had bad days," Josh said. "Hell, I've had shitty days. But I've never put anyone's life in danger."

She balled her fists and dug her fingernails into her palms; she felt satisfied when she saw she had drawn blood. "What the hell?"

"You drove under the influence," the president accused Donna. "It's bad enough you almost got yourself killed – you almost got Charlie killed, too."

"What are you talking about?"

"You became paranoid and starting weaving in and out of traffic," Bartlet said. "You thought Josh was chasing you so he could murder you."

"That's ridiculous!" Donna said. "Why the hell would I ever think Josh would want to hurt me?"

"Kill you," the president corrected.

"No offense, Josh, but you don't strike me as a criminal mastermind," CJ quipped.

"None taken," he responded.

Charlie's mouth dropped open. "Sir? When did you …"

The president waved his hand to silence the young man. "When I catch my former body man shaking like a leaf and dry heaving into a potted plant in the Oval Office, I tend to want to make inquiries." He shook his head. "The fact that you thought you had to lie to me about it – that's something you and I will have to discuss at a later date." He turned his attention back to Donna. "I already lost one person to someone driving under the influence. Please don't make me lose any more."

If Donna wasn't so angry, she might have noticed the fear and sadness swimming in the eyes of the most powerful man in the country. Instead, she snapped: "I don't know what the hell you're talking about. Sir. Maybe your MS is messing with your head?"

Josh emitted a cough to get her attention; she just glared at him and waited for President Bartlet to chastise her for such glaring disrespect for the Chief Executive of the United States of America. She briefly wondered if anyone in American history had ever yelled "Fuck you!"to a president's face.

Instead, the president told her: "If your ultimate goal is to push everyone away with insults, it's not going to work."

Charlie stared at his shoes, apparently gathering his thoughts, then abruptly jerked his head up to face her. "You really don't remember?"

Streets of Washington DC

Sometime in the Last Four Months

Charlie gripped the dashboard and squeezed his eyes shut as the car swerved into the adjacent lane. "Would you slow down!"

"He's after us!" Donna cried. She kept glancing in the rearview mirror, looking for a car that wasn't there.

"Who?"

"Josh! He knows that I know."

Take a deep breath and play along. Maybe it'll calm her down. "What do you know?"

"Leave us alone, you sick fuck!" she screamed. Charlie held his breath and listened to the blaring horns of angry drivers Donna was cutting off. "Josh is trying to kill us," she explained. "I can't tell you anything more. Maybe he'll spare you."

"Maybe I can protect us if I know what's going on," the young man ventured.

"I overheard Josh and the First Lady the other day. They're poisoning the President. That's why he's been sick lately."

"President Bartlet has multiple sclerosis. That's why he's been sick lately."

"Ah ha!" she exclaimed. "That's what they want you to think. They've been slowly poisoning the president since the first campaign. Soon as he dies, they're getting married and taking over the nation. Remember Rosslyn?" Charlie nodded. "He masterminded the entire attack."

You're losing it, Donna. "So he had himself shot in the chest?"

"I never said his plan didn't have flaws! But it was perfect – nobody would ever suspect one of the 'victims'. Remember Mrs. Landingham's accident?" She swerved to miss an oncoming truck. "Not an accident at all. Josh contracted a hit on her."

"What the hell is wrong with you? You trying to get us killed?" He tried to grab the steering wheel, but she smacked his hand. Hard.

"No! I'm trying to keep us alive, you asshole." She resumed her "explanation." "Gaza? Leo's heart attack?"

"Let me guess," he said dryly. "Josh." He continued wrestling Donna for control of the wheel. I don't want Deanna or Debbie getting a call saying we're dead. The White House and the Young house had gotten too many bad news calls to last a lifetime. He didn't want to be the cause of one.

"And Dr. Bartlet. She put arsenic in Leo's coffee. Too bad for her, he survived." She turned a corner, narrowly missing a curb. She exhaled. "I think we've lost him," she said. Charlie looked around and realized – for the first time – he had no idea where his friend and coworker had driven them. "He won't give up that easily," she quickly added. "Whatever I told you today – forget it." Sure thing, Donna. "Play the ignorance card. It's the only way."

"You mind if I drive back?" Charlie asked. "You look exhausted." And you'll get us killed before we get to Pennsylvania Avenue. Donna reluctantly acquiesced and pulled the car off to the side of the road. He opened the passenger door, jumped out, and attempted to ignore the fact his legs had the consistency of jelly.

Office of the White House Chief of Staff

Thursday, December 23, 2004

Morning

"There's nothing wrong with me!" Donna explained for what seemed like the thousandth time that morning. "I don't know what you people are drinking, but … I. Am. Fine!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes:**

_The West Wing _belongs to Aaron Sorkin, John Wells, and whoever. Not me. A big shout out to my betas.

Josh Lyman is threatening to strangle me for the way I've been torturing Donna. I tossed him a muffin and told him to stuff it.

**DONNA FALLS INTO A HOLE**

**Chapter V**

"There's nothing wrong with me!" Donna explained for what seemed like the thousandth time that morning. "I don't know what you people are drinking, but … I. Am. Fine!"

Office of the White House Chief of Staff

Thursday, December 23, 2004

Morning

"If this is what you consider _fine_, I'd hate to see what you consider _over the edge_," Leo said.

She ignored him and stared down the rest of her attackers. "Who planned this?" she demanded to know. "Who the hell planned this?"

"I had to tell them," Margaret confessed from her position near the door to her and Charlie's office. _When did you get here? _"I dared you to go twenty-four hours without taking any pills. You could barely handle five. Remember?"

She whirled around to face Margaret. "You conniving little bitch!" she hissed. "It's no one's fucking business!" She pushed her traitorous ex-friend against the door and swung her arm to strike her. Before she could give the woman what she deserved, she felt someone grab her from behind in a bear hug.

"Take it easy, Donna," she heard Toby say in her ear. She squirmed to escape the man's grasp, but found his grip on her was too tight. She settled on kicking him in the shins.

"That what you do? Stick your nose in other people's business and run to Leo like some goddamned little snitch?" In the back of her head, she could hear people begging her to calm down.

"Don't you see, Donna?" CJ called out. "This is exactly what we're talking about."

Josh dug his hands into her shoulders. "The drugs severely mess with your moods." She could feel his breath tickling her nose. If Toby didn't have her arms pinned, she would have punched the smug bastard.

"Donna …" Margaret tried to cut in. The redhead was staring wide-eyed at her and trembling. _That's right, you little shit. You should be scared. _All she wanted to do at this moment was shake the bitch and thrash her until she bled. Unfortunately, Ziegler had other plans. No matter what she did, he refused to loosen his hold on her.

"Fuck off!" She could feel her rage ebbing out of her system and took a few deep breaths to calm herself down. She wanted the angry feeling to come back – anger at least she could handle.

"She came to me because she cares," Leo said.

Office of the Advisor to the President

Sometime in the Last Few Days

Leo sat down at his desk and motioned for his former assistant to take a seat. "So, what brings you here?" he asked.

"I'm helping CJ put together the newest edition of the _White House Employee Protocol Manual_," she answered. "Hypothetical situations regarding White House staffers and how the Chief of Staff should respond."

He shook his head. "And you thought I should give some pointers?" He didn't wait for a response. "I hate to be the one to break this to you, but CJ doesn't need a guide – she'll know how to respond. If a book existed that had all the answers – if I were her – I'd throw it away."

"I figured some input from you might help her out," Margaret continued. "She has pretty big shoes to fill." He didn't bother hiding the smirk tearing at the corners of his mouth. "So, you don't mind if I toss out some hypothetical situations at you?"

He leaned forward in his seat. "Fire away."

"If a staffer was suspected of having a drug problem, what is the appropriate course of action to take?"

_Hypothetical my ass_, he thought bitterly, but decided to play along for the time being, just to gauge the direction Margaret was taking this. "Each situation is different," he told his ex-assistant. "It would depend on the person, how long they've worked at the White House, what they're using, any extraneous circumstances, and if they're willing to get help."

He noticed the redheaded woman was twisting her bracelet around her wrist, something she tended to do when she was nervous. She let out a breath he hadn't realized she'd been holding. "So, she – they – wouldn't get fired?" she asked hesitantly.

He decided to ignore the slip. "Not unless they refuse treatment," he assured her. He lowered his voice and took the _don't mess with Leo McGarry_ tone. "You know, if they discover someone on the staff has a drug problem and word gets out that you knew and didn't say anything, you could be in a lot of hot water. Maybe put your job on the line." He watched her squirm in her seat for a moment, before quickly adding: "Hypothetically speaking, of course." She was twisting her bracelet so vigorously he was afraid it would snap off and staring intently at a spot on the carpet. In all the years Margaret had worked for him, the former White House Chief of Staff had learned how to read her nonverbal signals. And her refusal to look at him when she had something to say that she felt would either piss him off or cause him unnecessary worry (especially now that he recently recuperated from a massive heart attack) was one of those signals. "Margaret, who …" he asked, his voice taking on a little gentler tone.

"It's Donna," she blurted out, finally raising her head to meet his gaze.

Office of the White House Chief of Staff

Thursday, December 23, 2004

Morning

"There is an unmarked sedan waiting outside to escort you to Andrews," the President said. "You are going to board a plane headed for Sierra Tucson. You will remain there until the doctors see you fit to return. Meanwhile, you will be placed on a medical leave of absence."

"What if I don't?" Toby, apparently believing her anger towards Margaret had dissipated, had loosened his grip, allowing her to wear holes in CJ's carpet.

Josh answered her question reluctantly. "I'd have to let you go." He ignored her snort. "You can't work here, not while you're like this."

"You know what, Joshua?" She yanked her White House ID badge from her neck and tossed it at her boss. "Screw you!" The sound of the slamming door reverberated throughout the room.

She felt like she was out of her body; it was someone else running down the corridor of the West Wing, someone else the shouts of "Donna!" "Donna, come back here!" were directed at. She wondered briefly if President Bartlet would order the Secret Service to stop her at the door. In all honesty, she could give two shits right now.

They were traitors. They ganged up on her. And for what? She was fine. She was dealing with things in her own way. _They can't touch me. I'm impervious._

To be continued in _Josh and Leo Jump Into the Hole_


End file.
